


This Will Destroy You

by jaeyongficfest



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Enemies to Lovers, Guns, JaeYong - Freeform, M/M, Mafia AU, dysfunctional, everything is kind of heartless, extra mess, fluff will not be found here really, love and hate, sorry for this smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeyongficfest/pseuds/jaeyongficfest
Summary: A story about heartbreak, revenge and love. In other words, slow burn for two men who happen to meet not so coincidentally. They both keep secrets, and they both keep strong memories. The thing is, neither of them know that once, a long time ago, they were friends who saved each other from loneliness.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 16
Kudos: 190





	This Will Destroy You

**Author's Note:**

> Little tiny warning: mediocre way of wording, random scenes, bad dirty smut and blood.

To begin such a complicated story, it is very important to explain why Jung Jaehyun is the way he is right now. A protagonist. An antagonist. A hero. A little bit of a psycho. It all depends who you talk to, or to whom you mention that name of his.

To some people, he might be your regular man in a brown coat that comes to buy a cappuccino for a takeout from your local coffee shop in the morning. On Mondays especially. Some cinnamon, yes please. Cream, not today, thank you. He drops whatever cents he has in his pocket into a big glass jar that says 'Tips' and politely asks for a coffee sleeve so his fingers don't burn. He later walks through the park, sips on his drink, maybe pets a passerby dog, making contact with its owner. Sharing fake stories about his own pets and wife he does not have. Empty talking like:

"I work in an office just across the road," he says. "It's a bun day today," he continues. "It's great talking to you too. Hope your surgery goes well, sir," he finishes.

And those people smile and nod at him, at his everyday life stories, at his complaints about bread prices going up too high. They nod at his designer coat and they nod at his specs that fall down to the edge of his nose. He seems civil, well mannered, husband material as he's often told. On Mondays especially. Everyone seems to match him with their daughters and sons and even dogs on Mondays. Just match and nod. And Jaehyun nods back.

To others, Jung Jaehyun must suddenly change scenes. He is dressed in black: black hat, black mask, black jeans and shirt, black jacket and black gloves. His breaths are steady and his gun is aiming at the back of someone's head. The shot is silent, clean. The man drops to the ground seconds after, and Jaehyun watches him wriggle, like a little worm that is about to become a bait. He is coughing blood now. Attempts to scream one last time until his body freezes.

But the most important thing is that to Jaehyun himself, he is a man with a purpose. That is why as he now sits sprawled on the sofa, one hand holding a gun, another tapping a pen into a coffee table in an irritable manner, scared eyes looking at him across the room and waiting for him to speak up, he thinks that there are some things only he knows.

Like the fact that a long long time ago, there was a murder. A long long time ago, Jaehyun was a seven year old boy who found his parents bathing in their own blood, tea kettle still on, steaming and whistling loudly. He sometimes remembers how his dog barked as he himself sat in the red pool, nudging his mum, nudging his dad.

After that, it is sometimes difficult for Jaehyun to remember how exactly one tattooed man offered him a home and made him the man he is right now. Maybe someone pushed him out of the house and out of the blood pool that night and told him to fuck off. Run from here, boy. Talk and you die, boy. And stuff like that.

His pen still tapping, his gun still pointed, Jaehyun takes a deep breath and pushes things that only he knows aside. It is not time yet to reveal his big grand purpose.

"So," he finally starts and no named man's body visibly tenses at the cold tone. "Just so we are perfectly clear," at that, Jaehyun tosses his pen and stands up, walking slowly towards the subject like a predator. "You are telling me you lost all of them?" He snaps his fingers in a theatrical way. "Just like that?"

"Jaeh-"

"It's fucking Yoonoh to you," Jaehyun snarls. Now the gun is pointed to the head. The man's eyes widen. "You lost all of them. Yes or no."

"Yoonoh. Sorry, they knew we were following and-"

Now Jaehyun's face is fixed with a lour, he pushes his gun against the skin harsher. "Yes or no."

"Yes."

Jaheyun likes to think that in the end, he is as fair as possible, you can say even polite. That is why before his gun makes a banging sound, his face gets splattered with the no named man's blood and a heavy body drops to the ground of his so-called office, Jaehyun mutters a little "thank you."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The plot can stop being vague one day when Jaehyun is sitting at the same coffee shop with his laptop on, coat hanging on the back of his chair, flowery saucer and a flowery espresso cup on the side. It's a double shot. His right hand's knuckles are bruised and he can't really explain to the barista that asks him what had happened with a "I smashed someone's skull open last night". So he says: "I do boxing as a hobby," which earns him a little oh, like the oh you make in bed.

Jaehyun wishes there was some heroic reason why he would sit here instead of his dark base, but there really isn't except for the fact that a cleaner is coming to remove splattered brain from his floor. Jaehyun is not following some lad that he would like to kill, nor is he collecting information on something. The crime world Jaehyun lives in is more black and white than people seem to think. Gangs shoot and kill, they take and lose, and that's about it. There is no logistics behind it. Lost children aren't capable of such. Unless they are driven by revenge, but that fact is for another time.

Some couple smooches next to his table and he suddenly thinks how long it's been since he had a fuck, but his sad thoughts about the lack of hard-on are interrupted by a phone call, quite fortunately.

"Yes?"

"Hey. We are moving tonight."

That's all it takes for Jaehyun to smile and plop his elbow onto the table, his wrist showcasing an expensive watch to the public of the coffee shop. He listens to the plan of action over the phone, slowly downs remains of his espresso shot, face twisted, so bitter. He's told about drugs and stashes of drugs and the worth of all these drugs. He's told about all the ambush and robbery they are about to do. And as he listens to the plan he cares so little about, Jaehyun watches the chick who's just been fully snogged watch him whenever her boyfriend takes a sip of his probably badly chosen coffee. Jaehyun sends her a little wink, suddenly in a good mood. If only he could say something like: "Hi. I kill people. What about you?"

The plan seems fine and dandy, not that Jaehyun cares. What matters is that messing around with a certain group of people, or maybe certain someone, has been his favourite activity lately. That and talking to strangers over a cup of coffee.

But those are the things that only Jung Jaehyun knows.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


As always, Jaehyun is late for the ambush, or more like, he wasn't in a rush to make it on time to begin with. He is here for the show, he is here to be the main man, score the last goal and claim the trophy that someone else had won, like your regular prick in a high school football team. For some reason the captain everyone looks up to.

There is a look of satisfaction and self adore when he places his gun on the edge of the banister and slowly loads it. Now his black gloves are covering his bruised knuckles, and no one asks what had happened anymore. But Jaehyun that dresses in black and shoots people at night doesn't want anyone to ask.

The wind on the roof ruffles his brown hair and Jaehyun sees his breaths in the air. He blows it couple of times, just to watch it disperse in the starry night and grins looking down to the opening of the base, feeling like a god. He is in the sky and he is responsible for someone's life, that sort of thing most gods are known for.

His men are already cleaning the place, making a mess and a show like they always do, some loud fuckers he will never learn the names of. Two or three mobsters that looked after their precious drugs are lying on the ground cold and Jaehyun wishes he could shoot them couple of times, like some targets people aim at at the fair for pennies. He would walk out of here with a plush toy as a prize for hitting them in right places.

This isn't the end, of course. It's never that easy, not with this opposing team at least, if we talk game vocabulary. Soon he's in action as black cars surround the area, his guys are getting killed and tackled by one, two, three. The gang is called The Syndicate by the way, oh how fucking original. When he finally shoots from his hideaway, he doesn't look anymore. He doesn't care who dies, it's the thought of this ambush and danger that matters. If only his dying accomplices knew.

When he makes sure that some of the remaining survivors manage to get into the loaded car with white powder, ready to set off, Jaehyun sends his bullets like a mad man to the Syndicate's base again. That's a statement. We were here and we fucked you over. We will come again and we will steal again. And one day, we will kill you.

It's not a perfect execution, but Jaehyun wants it to be that way. He needs attention.

So he flows through life just like that. Steady. Organising little ambushes and attacks ever since he came back to his childhood town a year ago or so. Whenever there is a new tip on a meeting place, base, secret location, area headquarters that the Syndicate has - Jaehyun and whoever is alive is there to make a mess. He takes what is not his to take, and takes back what was his to begin with. There is blood, fire and there is pain, but Jung Jaehyun seems to be missing some of the usual sense of regret as a criminal. Or maybe he is just immune to feelings. Like when you get vaccinated and never get sick again.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Back to one of Jaehyun's regular Monday mornings, where the story is way more eclectic and interesting in Jaehyun's eyes with the way life stops here and no danger is known to the civilians, he is at the coffee shop again reading a newspaper. Such a chivalrous young man.

There is a blurry picture of some naked body under the 'crime' section with a big fat title of 'Found Dead' and Jaehyun spends good five minutes trying to think whether it was one of his kills. Throwing this man into the river.

He is reading one page, another, oh the whole story of how nice this man was, how good of a father he was, how his neighbours would see him water plants every morning. He reaches the part of an intriguing long lost daughter when his table shakes, someone gasps, and Jaehyun is sitting there, covered in what it seems like iced americano.

"Oh god. I am so sorry." A man mumbles and jumps to get some tissue, totally aiming to wipe off the coffee from somewhere close to Jaehyun's dick.

"Thanks, I got it." He says and stops the man. They briefly glance at each other and Jaehyun does not miss on the looks. Some pretty thing.

"Your jacket. Can I pay you back? I am so sorry." The pretty thing is standing next to Jaehyun's table, what was remains of his coffee now looking sad in his transparent plastic cup. Veiny and heavy ringed hand holding it.

Jaehyun is still trying to save his outfit, tissue all over the table, he throws one, takes another when he says: "It's just a jacket, don't worry." And what he means by that is "fuck, I loved this jacket." He looks up to the stranger and gives him a reassuring smile instead, the one where his dimples show. What this smile also means, is "go away now, I don't know if it was me who threw that man into the river".

But the red head doesn't let go. He plops on the chair opposite of Jaehyun, good eye contact, by the way, leans in over the table with a worried look and says: "No, really. I feel like shit." Very plum lips, either a scarred, or a shaved off eyebrow. Sharp jaw and cheekbones. Striking. "Tell me what coffee you like, that's the least I can do."

Jaehyun leans back at that, amused. "I have a coffee already."

"Tea? Pastry?"

"No, thanks."

The red head licks his lips, almost in a frustrated way. Curiosity is piqued and Jaehyun tries not to grin too much after being flirted on in a plain daylight. Monday means old ladies inviting him on blind dates with their daughters, not a perfect example of his type make a ruckus in a coffee shop where Jaehyun is used to the only noise being little whispers and crockery clatters. Maybe he did drown that man from the newspaper, what does it matter.

"Right. I see you are impossible to buy," the stranger chuckles and that does not go missed by Jaehyun. He smiles too, feeling sort of cocky with his ego activated in one, two, three.

"You have no idea," escapes his lips as he is the one to test out the waters this time. There is a different kind of air between both of them, dominant like, mutual understanding like of what is about to happen, and Jaehyun is already leaning forward to whisper something completely inappropriate when his bloody phone rings.

"I have no time right now." He's horny, he really doesn't. "What is it?"

The brief and stressed monologue from the receiver contains something about sudden attack and killed men. In short, he is needed, the way the main man of the show has to make an entrance to spin the wheel or give the car keys to the scammed winner of the lottery.

The red head is resting his jaw against his palm now, curious eyes dropping to Jaehyun's angry mouth every time he uses his harsh tone.

Well, that's his fuck for tonight gone, he thinks and drops the call with a big huff.

"Is everything okay?"

Jaehyun clenches his jaw and shakes his head, already standing up, wiping his trousers one last time in efforts to erase the iced americano. He would ask for the pretty thing's phone number, but this is against his life's with a special purpose protocol, unfortunately. So he says: "yeah, just work got busy. Sorry, I really have to bounce."

They look at each other for a moment too long, and the way the red head is looking up from where he is sitting, his big round eyes focused on Jaehyun towering above him, that makes the situation in his pants quite complicated. "It was... nice meeting you?"

"Sure," the no-named bird nods, clear disappointment on his face. Jaehyun thinks he notices a resemblance of frustration as well for a split second, but then again, Jaehyun doesn't really know if he can ever be the judge of a person's emotions. Especially when he can stab someone in the guts with a grin on his face whilst watching reality TV.

"Hey," the red head makes Jaehyun turn around one last time and god, he is not a bad looking one at all. "I happen to possibly have plans to buy some coffee here next Monday."

At that, they both grin, another occurrence of mutual understanding washing through them.

"Alright," says Jaehyun.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


And so they meet the next Monday. And the one after that.

Their talks are vague and surely missing profoundness, to put it simply. Worst seen films, worst dates, dishes they hate and the type of careers they wanted to have in the kindergarten. They touch on anything and everything, except what's really important. What do you do. How old are you. Where are you from. Give me your weakness. Do you kill people too.

Jaehyun would tell stories about his travels that never happened, his family that doesn't exist anymore and the dog who waits at home for him to return from his office job. And in return, he would hear short stories and summaries of what work at a pub is like, the big story behind the shaved off eyebrow and how the guy, Taeyong his name is by the way, had an accidental date in sunflower fields once, where he ended up having sex. All dirty and unprotected, that sorts.

Jaehyun, being an inexperienced emotional compass, sometimes wonders if he is the only one with a made up life, as he listens to the heart shaped lips talk and mention this name, then the next time another, until the web of the story is so tangled, Jaehyun doesn't know if it's his turn to continue it.

He loves this. He loves the lack of personal.

And so on the fourth Monday, the coffee shop has no red head nor a brown head in it. On that fourth Monday, the scene changes to a hotel room.

There are no more fake stories and no more glances stolen over the cups of coffee. No more meaningful smiles that only one or the other would understand.

The scene right now is naked, raw and vulgar, just like Jaehyun likes it to be.

He leans down to the sprawled on the bed Taeyong and kisses him full on mouth, as dirty as possible, all teeth and tongue, whilst his fingers are working their magic on some sweet sweet spots, so sweet that Taeyong moans into his mouth, filthy cusses begging Jaehyun to keep on going. Right there. Yes.

Jaehyun can still taste caramel machiatto and an image of Taeyong licking the cream dry from the straw makes his dick stiffen again. He can also taste prosecco which both of them smuggled into the hotel room, before Taeyong started dancing on the bed with his tube socks on, drinking and stripping. You could write a song about it.

The thought of how much to his liking this man is does not skip Jaehyun's mind when he hears a little whisper of "fuck me" and pulls back to stare at Taeyong in the dim light of the heavily perfumed hotel room. They pant for air as their gazes reek of lust and sexual frustration. Jaehyun grips Taeyong's jaw harshly and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, where he's noticed small moles during Taeyong sucking on his straw activity today. This is how they ended up here, Taeyong and his damn straw. Add to that Jaehyun's bulge.

“Okay. My turn now,” Taeyong suddenly breathes into his mouth and with an unexpected speed flips them both over. He is on top now. He takes the charge. He undresses Jaehyun. Sort of. Taeyong brushes his fingers on Jaehyun’s torso as his open shirt hangs on his shoulders and leans down to kiss the abs. Yeah, everyone always licks his abs like it’s some good arse in a glory hole.

There is nothing sweet about it, nothing gentle in the way Taeyong takes the cock into his pretty mouth. Head up and down. Choke. Head up and down again. Jaehyun brushes his red hair.

The look Taeyong gives as he locks his stare with Jaehyun is that of an absolute domination, cheeks full of dick and precome. He licks the veins and then the tip. Dips his head back down again and chokes, heavily ringed hand strong and painful on Jaehyun’s thigh, stopping him from thrusting up into the throat when he starts coming.

Come on the tip of the tongue, come on the lips and cheeks. That is the kind of look Taeyong has when he bites the condom with his teeth and sits on Jaehyun's crotch. They both pant and grin. Always that grin they have that speaks for itself instead of them saying 'that's fucking hot'.

It's not like Jaehyun lacks opportunities to have partners in bed. If he allowed, the most famous and flexible strippers would let him drill into them, free of charge, such a bargain. But Jaehyun likes things to be a little more complicated, especially with the way Taeyong is looking at him right now, yellow light of the room completely smoothing out his fair skin. Air brushed and perfect. He grinds his arse against Jaehyun's cock, bringing it back to full and swollen erection in slow moves.

Jaehyun wants to touch him, he wants to grip on Taeyong's skinny waist and latch his hands all around him, pound into him, spoon him, do anything to take him, but Taeyong, still grinding against the cock, he leans down to lick into Jaehyun's mouth, grips on his arms to pin them on the mattress, making him completely immobile. 

This is a fucking torture, but a good kind. In some ways, Jaehyun wishes he could reverse several minutes back and have his weight on Taeyong again, see him out of control and teary eyed, his hands granted allowance to touch anywhere they want to, but then again, he can't complain when lips wrap around his dick again, condom being slided on. Fucking hell, is all that he can moan out with wetness and pressure clouding his senses with a few final sucks.

What comes next should be in the handbook of every good porno. Or at least in: How To Excel At One Night Stands. 

Taeyong takes the cock inside like a champ, his knees strong on the mattress, arse moving up and down as he pounds Jaehyun into himself. His pace is good, so are his moans, so good that Jaehyun groans and frees his arm from the grip, just to curl it around Taeyong's neck before he would retaliate. He forces his red head to a side, to the wall mirror facing them, when he starts lifting his hips too, meeting Taeyong somewhere in the middle.

A set of white teeth and a smile peaks out before them, in the mirror, and Taeyong releases a croaked and choked out moan, eyes closed. He holds onto Jaehyun's hand that is choking him and he puts more pressure on the neck just to witness another pained moan. Taeyong stops moving and curls his back straight for access, squeezing Jaehyun tight when he finally submits.

Skin slaps and beads of sweat trickles down their bodies, it's that sort of sex they are having. It's fast and rough, and Jaehyun can't stop clutching at the throat, and Taeyong can't stop clutching his cock. He feels the tension in the pit of his stomach building up, he feels himself swell and so his hand is now placed at the back of the red head, pulling him down for some final wet kisses. Jaehyun goes to stroke his shaft just to feel come with his fingers, not even sure how and when he had missed Taeyong's orgasms, occupied with his own.

It's quite a stunning comedown, when he spills it out into the condom, Jaehyun has to admit, and they lay panting for several moments just like that, with Taeyong worn out and on top of him, sticky mess between his naked body and Jaehyun's open shirt.

"Is there any food here?" Taeyong asks after he catches his breath and Jaehyun shakes his head a no. Redhead then detaches himself to Jaehyun's cock's dismay and leaves the bed to walk up to the mirror, his buttocks red. He's fixing his messy hair, body so bare and seductive. His reflection looks at Jaehyun ogle him when he says: "You seemed like vanilla, actually."

"Gee, I can give you vanilla if you want alright." Jaehyun throws the condom to the ground. "You always this intense?"

Taeyong is still facing the mirror, he is splaying come on his stomach like it is some fake tan or body glitter you need to handle with care and precision. Just like the bottle says. Jaehyun watches himself in the mirror watch him. "Guess you will never know." A laugh that makes him spring up from the bed, because oh no, he will know. Jaehyun watches himself in the mirror approach naked reflection of Taeyong. He hugs him from behind, arms snaking around the body, brushing his come, Taeyong's come. He then splays his right hand on Taeyong's throat and grips at his jaw with a little pressure, it must've hurt, during sex, but Taeyong doesn't show it. Their reflections are looking at them. Amused. Like those reflections know more than they do.

"You seduced me," Jaehyun whispers into Taeyong's pierced ear when his other hand travels to the crotch. "Now... you can't imagine this ends here?"

"You want me as your booty call?"

Jaehyun tugs at the earlobe and grinds his hardening cock against Taeyong. "Precisely."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


What's there to say, really. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months and before Jaehyun knows it, he is stuck in his little limbo of crime and Taeyong.

Things are rather easy going, to the point that he finds himself in the bedsheets more often than not. Their sceneries go from one hotel room to another, to the back of the car and even city breaks. And it takes a while for Jaehyun to realise that he might be not the only one running from his real life persona.

Jaehyun truly wants to believe that he is fucking a civilian, that when one day, when he is done with the Syndicate, he can be this vanilla looking, coffee drinking and newspaper reading man. But sometimes, on some rare occasions, he finds himself with furrowed eyebrows stare at Taeyong when the latter is not aware, when he is grinning to himself or texting someone on the phone. It's not like they are anything more than casual, it's not like there is any deep meaning of what they tell each other. If it's even real. Yes, it's only sex, that quick release they both seem to be after. Or so that's what he tells himself when Taeyong leaves and he can't stop thinking about him. But Jaehyun can't help and sometimes stare at his unaware red head. His smirking lips. He can't stop feeling left out of some big plot climax he should be a part of.

"You are spacing out again."

Jaehyun lifts his head from the pillow and looks up at standing Taeyong, two DVDs in his hands. He cocks his eyebrow. "We met to watch a film?"

"You know sometimes we can pretend we can hold it in and not fuck straight away, don't you think?"

"But I can't."

Taeyong rolls his eyes. "Shut up. Kill Bill or Final Destination."

"Can't we just watch porn?" That question earns Jaehyun DVDs thrown at his face. Taeyong then stomps to the bed, lays on it, facing the ceiling. He huffs and that makes Jaehyun chuckle. Well, that chuckle earns him a slap from the back of Taeyong's hand. 

"I just thought we could use our time in this nice room properly at least once. I'm not in a rush, are you?"

Jaehyun rests his head on his palm as he lays on his side, staring at Taeyong's sour expression. This dramatic moment is new. Maybe it is not real either. "You know I'm always up for it."

Taeyong turns to him, agitated, he looks at the clock on the wall and before Jaehyun can glance at it too, he says: "I know. It's just... your foreplay is five minutes long."

"Are you complaining about my sex skills?"

"Well no. But we are always done so quickly."

Jaehyun understands then what Taeyong means, or at least he hopes so, and he can't help but feel his chest swell with something like care and admiration, emotions he should not be capable of. Taeyong wants to spend time with him. He looks down to hide his smile, like some pathetic teenage boy, ears red and burning. 

"Okay." He rolls on top of Taeyong and grabs his leg to curl it around his waist. "If you say so." He places a peck on his freckled lips, soft, almost innocent. "We'll watch a film and then," whispers against his mouth, one hand buried in the red hair. "And then... We will have the slowest fuck you have ever had."

"Much better," Taeyong mutters and leans in for a languid kiss.

Though love making or whatever the fuck was happening plans do not work out. 

Later that evening, as the chick in the film is slashing everyone's throat open with her stupid yellow jumpsuit and a sword, Jaehyun gets some news. Very bad news.

He is still sitting with his back against the headboard, Taeyong on his chest and in between his legs when his phone blinks and a message reads:

_ We need you at the base now. There's been another attack. It's BAD. Your cleaner is dead. _

Well that's just fucking wonderful. If not the film, Jaehyun would have been there already, probably taking care of those motherfuckers with ease. He looks down to Taeyong's red scalp and sighs. He's been too careless. 

"I have to go," he finally mutters and Taeyong lifts his doe eyes at him.

"Right now? It's the middle of the night, Yoonoh."

"Yeah. There is a situation at work." He lies, detaching himself from the skinny body and stands up to put on his shirt. A watch and polished shoes follow. Then Taeyong's cologne because he always forgets his.

"Ugh." Taeyong hides his face in a pile of silky pillows. "What kind of a sales man works at night?"

"It's international." Another lie.

"Mhm. Sure." Taeyong's voice is muffled against the lavender and white coloured silks.

Jaehyun, his coat now on, walks to the bed and sits on a corner. He touches Taeyong's nape and curls his finger around his silver necklace. "I'm serious." He lies once more, leans down and plants several kisses on Taeyong's naked spine. 

"Fine, whatever. Just be careful, I guess?"

"Why?" His fingers go in circles on the smooth back, skin so soft and welcoming for Jaehyun to stay and never leave. If only he didn't have people to kill.

Taeyong shrugs, head still buried in the pillows so only his shoulders move, what face he is making only known to the silks. "No reason. I just need your dick to be safe."

"That is so romantic."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


To finally enter Lee Taeyong's character is a lot easier. Ever since he was a child, Taeyong knew what his life was going to be and what kind of a man he was going to become. He did not plan to go to college, nor had he family and kids as his life's goal. This nuclear family model. Even if everyone around him always played a game of pretence, ruffling his hair, bringing him candy and shushing him whenever men in suits were in his father's office, Taeyong knew everything. He knew he wasn't just rich or important, he knew there was murder and crime involved every time he was locked in the house for weeks, prohibited to leave, unable to make any friends. Taeyong knew that his dad was a criminal, and so naturally, he knew that one day he would become one too.

Maybe it's not the kind of life that would have a happily ever after, but Taeyong is comfortable, often even content. Being a criminal is an important part of what he is and wants to be, like when a painter can't imagine his life without a brush, Taeyong can't imagine his without a gun. Though, he is more into knives anyways.

The Syndicate is established, of course, and there is very little Taeyong has to do to keep up with his father's legacy, if you could call it that. If only he wanted, he could sit in his marbled, rather emotionally cold protected house and never see a drop of blood again. But Taeyong is not wired like that. He cares about every detail of the business, and he cares about those damn innocent people who are forced by life to be criminals and work for him. He just cares, and with care comes consequences.

The first time he hears of his dealers being attacked - Taeyong doesn't pay much attention to it. Bury the body, count the loss, clean up your bloody shirt, please. These things happen.

But when it occurs again next week, and then week after that, those killings suddenly turning into ambushes, people disappearing, his clients stolen, his bases attacked and destroyed - Taeyong starts to worry.

And no, that worry is not the kind that'd be caused by fear. This worry means that Taeyong is aware of this all being bigger than taking down the Syndicate only. This worry means that Taeyong has no idea what those fuckers really want, but he is sure that the ending scene is still yet to come where he would have the main role. Good or bad.

That continues for around a year, those attacks and him cleaning up the mess after, until Taeyong learns the new group's pattern and realises they are not as good as they think they are. Mostly because he comes to learn that behind all of it stands one man only.

After that, he starts giving him and whatever group he has access. Taeyong is suddenly careless and visible. A perfect plan for a perfect bait. And the bait buys it.

They do this big grand ambush, but they don't know that Taeyong is there too, watching the main man dressed in black hold his riffle on a rooftop. He could shoot him right there and then, sure, he even has his gun pointed at him, but as mentioned before - Taeyong is comfortable, maybe too much. And so he decides to get the man traced, to know more about him, to know why he's doing this, until this turns into a little fucked up obsession. Obsession that leads for Taeyong to want to pay the man in some other way for all his stunts lately. He decides to play.

And it all starts with a spilled iced americano followed by a dimpled smile.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Taeyong sits in the dark room, the only light is of a TV screen that lights up yellow whenever the chick comes up with her jumpsuit and a sword. She is quite good at slashing stomachs open with it, and Taeyong thinks how eccentric it would be for him to have a sword too.

Yoonoh has left half an hour ago or so, and Taeyong glances at the wall clock again with tired and red eyes. It is just past midnight. It should be over.

Yoonoh and him, it was supposed to be a one, maybe two time thing. Taeyong's plan was to corner him, maybe kill him as they lay in bed, lock him up and turn into his little torture device until there was no more Yoonoh anymore. No more danger to the Syndicate. Just a little game. He loved the idea of the man being so rough and demanding, wearing his mask of a civilian when Taeyong was the one about to kill him as he saw it fit, perfectly aware of his true identity. It was empowering.

But life decided to play a sick sick joke on him and nurture what you'd call a weakness over someone. Every time Taeyong would stand facing the bathroom door with sounds of water running and Yoonoh humming from the inside of the shower cubicle, he would fidget. He'd try to walk closer. One more step. A steady breath. He would place his left hand on the doorknob, another holding a gun. This is it, he would tell himself. It is time for Yoonoh to go. He's proved to be the smarter one. Taeyong has won.

In those moments, minutes would turn into hours, and Taeyong's hand would stay on the doorknob up until there'd be no sounds of water running anymore. He would hear Yoonoh exit the cubicle, probably leaving wet feet traces all over the tiles.

With the bathroom door open, Yoonoh would not see Taeyong facing him with a gun, he wouldn't stumble as a bullet hits his heart. With the bathroom door open, Yoonoh would be welcomed with a kiss instead, a shaky hand removing his towel that's already way too loose on his hips to begin with. He would be welcomed with a silent apology which only Taeyong knew about.

Long story short - Taeyong now has a shameful weakness, a weakness that keeps on ruining what his family and he had built over the years as a mob clan. A weakness that kills his friends and then comes to fuck him in the morning. And Taeyong sometimes feels like he is reaching the point of utter madness with his web of lies trotting behind him everywhere he goes.

The fact that his own hand can't pull the trigger and end this, it doesn't mean that he does not go impromptu and use other means to get to Yoonoh as the criminal he is. He does his best to leak information of his whereabouts to his best killers, those responsible for removing any threats the Syndicate might have, but leaking information and actually playing along does not work out as much as he tries. He would change the details, he would drag Yoonoh to the back of a parking lot when he knows someone has already entered the hotel room where they fucked some moments ago. He would drive off with Yoonoh's hand grabbing his thigh and kissing his neck. So unaware and lovely.

Tonight is one of those nights where he's sabotaged his own self, once again. Bravo, Taeyong. The ruckus Yoonoh has created, well the tension runs high in the Syndicate's headquarters, so high that Taeyong often hears of his underlings taking care of the danger themselves, going after Yoonoh's own group, looking for ways to get rid of him without Taeyong's approval as he is busy concealing the love marks on his body. They tell him the news later, of some successful pay-off kill, like it's some surprise or a gift. They watch his expression and Taeyong is supposed to grin at them proudly. Say how well his group is doing. Good job, boys.

They have finally located one of Yoonoh's bases and tonight he was supposed to be there too. Yoonoh would have been there, getting shot and killed and cold if only Taeyong did not force him to watch a film. 

"Shit," he buries his face in his hands, the room dark as the film credits roll. Everything is fucked.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Every time Taeyong enters his home at late dusk, the high from good sex and affection seems to dissipate instantly. The smirk he'd have when he drives his car back is gone and the mask of coldness replaces it as he passes the gate and greets his security, feeling like some teenager coming home after the party he was not supposed to attend. He asks for quick updates. Some gin and tonic is handed to him.

Taeyong is sore and tired, mostly the latter as some weeks pass since the counter attack they have done against Yoonoh's group, yet he is still immobile, unable to do a thing. Unable to finish it, though he'd tell himself that he is going to be the one to kill the man. So he keeps on meeting his alleged enemy, deciding it is the last one every single time they say goodbye to each other and exchange kisses.

He drags his feet up the stairs and to his bedroom. It's somewhat big and pompous suddenly, with its drapes and burgundy pelmets, leather armchairs and silly overpriced figurines. Golden tigers and lions and that sort of shit. Taeyong has always loved his room, but now, after experiencing what it means to not be lonely anymore, probably for the second time ever since he was a child, this room feels several square metres too big. 

The bed is perfectly made up as he frantically tosses the cushions to the floor, shoes off, coat hanging on his shoulders. He tucks his conflicted self under the covers, clothes still on and smelling of Yoonoh. 

_ I'll see you tomorrow?  _ The text on his phone reads and Taeyong closes his eyes just to fall asleep like that. Dramatically holding onto the device with Yoonoh's last message. Feeling sick hatred for himself and the said man who's become his biggest liability.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When Taeyong wakes up, all he sees is pitch black of the night and a glimpse of a full moon. He stretches his body and grunts, feeling discomfort in every bone, clothes stuck to his skin. He slowly sits up and massages a side of his neck, feet hanging from his big bed as he stares into nothing. 

Taeyong enjoys those moments when he wakes up without a particular thought in his head, somehow resembling his mornings when he used to go to school and would be woken up by his mum to eat his porridge. Hunger, bathroom and shower seem to be the only factors of importance then, nothing else in life existing nor worrying him. He calls those moments his own golden hour.

He decides that taking care of his hunger should be his first task of the night, and so he runs his hands through his oversized shirt, bracelets going up and down his forearms in the process. His phone flashes just as he is about to leave the room. 17 missed calls.

"What's up?" Is his first question, voice still strained and drowsy.

_ "Finally! Yuta has made progress on the scumbags that'd been attacking us. We are rolling tonight, we know where their boss is." _

Yoonoh. All that rings in his head is Yoonoh.

"What?" Taeyong is frozen on his spot, fingers squeezing the phone as if it'd help him hear something else instead.

_ "Sorry, this is such short notice, but they might move by tomorrow, we had to action it instantly. Uhm,"  _ the voice sounds nervous, Taeyong can't even tell which underling of his this is. Not that it matters.  _ "Yuta made the decision, you said it's okay if you are ever-" _

"Yes yes, I fucking know what I said," Taeyong cuts short as he is grabbing his car keys, putting on his shoes. "Where you all at?"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Of course the game had to be over eventually. But Taeyong did not plan it just yet. Maybe he never did, ever since he started wanting to see Yoonoh's gorgeous dimpled smile, instead of his dead cold body.

So he runs now. Runs and runs and runs until his adrenaline is out and panic takes over. It has to be him, if this is the end, it has to be Taeyong and Yoonoh as the final scene.

He doesn't know how and when he reaches the pit of action, with people shooting at each other, and Taeyong is there only with his pistol, his shirt flapping around with each gush of wind. He doesn't exactly see where he is shooting, but his eyes are frantically looking for him. Begging for him to be alive. Just a little longer.

"What are you doing!" Someone covers him with their body, bullets piercing through it as the man in front drops dead, but Taeyong doesn't stop. He keeps running, somewhere, not here. He is not here. More voices scream behind him, trying to get him out of there but Taeyong brushes past them.

Somewhere in the background he hears police sirens as the gunshots echo like thunder all over the neighbourhood. He slumps against a wall in one of the alleys, losing track of where he's already checked, and where next he should go, chest heaving. There is a body lying there and Taeyong kicks at his side with a boot, before he grabs a gun from a cold hand.

He hears footsteps nearing the alley he is at and Taeyong aims his gun to shoot. Just two more steps, maybe three and he is going to pull the trigger. Bang bang and you are dead.

"Yoonoh!" Taeyong exclaims, hand shaking and the man turns to him, shock in his eyes, a bloody hand holding his arm. The gun falls to the puddle on the ground. The blood that gushes from Yoonoh's wound dribbles slowly, his fingers painting dark colour of red.

Yoonoh stumbles couple of steps back and he blinks his eyes, squints them at his arm then at Taeyong, at first affectionate, but then confusion etches on his face. "Taeyong? What are you... doing here?" He then looks down to the gun, to the shocked expression Taeyong is displaying and the scariest look flashes, making his face rather a grimace. Yoonoh is quick to narrow the distance between them. Even quicker to grab Taeyong by his throat and slam his back against the wall. "Tell me what the fuck is happening."

Taeyong can't breathe, he digs his nails into Yoonoh's hand but that only leaves marks as the man is scowling at him, beads of sweat on his forehead, no dimpled smile for him. "I-" He chokes and Yoonoh releases his throat, slams his uninjured fist into the wall instead. 

"Are you a cop?"

Taeyong coughs, holding onto his bruising neck. "I wish a was."

"Fuck, you what?" Yoonoh brings his face close to his own, fingers holding onto the bony chin and jaw and Taeyong can feel the heat of his breath, worry in his eyes. Yoonoh is panicking. 

He can't stop his sorry expression, even though this was a long awaited situation. Maybe even perfect. A double kill for both of them. Taeyong bites the inside of his cheek as he looks at Yoonoh's arm where his bullet had hit. "You have been attacking the Syndicate... you've killed so many people, Yoonoh."

"So you are working for them, is that what you are saying?" When Taeyong says nothing, he grabs his hair and pulls it down. Taeyong lets him, he lets him be angry.

"It's more complicated than that."

"Well fucking enlighten me! All this time we've been in bed together." He releases Taeyong and turns to pace around, fingers digging in his own hair. "You worked for the fucking Syndicate?"

Taeyong decides that this ends tonight, this is it. Maybe his comfort wasn't supposed to last forever. Maybe he was supposed to fall for his enemy and die just like that. Hated and despised for all his crimes. He looks down to the little trail of blood when he says: "No. I  _ am _ them. The Syndicate is mine."

If he thought he couldn't break any more, Taeyong was long mistaken. A stretched silence spreads after his words, and he stands, breathless, watching Yoonoh's anger turn into hurt, eyebrows drooping, and then the hurt turn into pure despise. It is something Taeyong'd only see in his worst nightmares. The distraught. 

He does deserve the punch that lands on his cheek, and Taeyong sees the stars when he falls to the ground before Yoonoh picks him up by his collars. Then there is another punch and now Taeyong is sniggering, thinking of all the times those fingers brushed his cheek when he pretended to be asleep. Softly.

"Don't pretend you are so innocent," he coughs and wipes his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. "You played this game too."

Well, that doesn't go too well. Yoonoh pounces on him again, and Taeyong decides to give him at least one more fight. "I'll kill you," his deep voice cuts through Taeyong's heavy breaths between the punches, but before he gets another slam on his face, Taeyong grabs Yoonoh's wrist in a firm grip. His other hand punches the man back just as hard, splitting his lip open, thinking how much he actually wanted to do that ever since the fucker started killing his friends. Taeyong remembers the hurt and heartbreak too. He remembers the fact that it is Yoonoh who had started this all, Yoonoh who made the first move.

"Take your fucking gun out and shoot me then! Or are you looking for reasons not to?" His heart thunders as he looks at Yoonoh's bleeding lips, his fingers digging into the wrist. "You wanted to take us down, here is your chance. I did fuck up, but you've been on some sort of fucked up hunt for the Syndicate yourself, angel."

Yoonoh retaliates and huffs angrily, and the scene slows down. Taeyong, slumped, wrecked and bloody against the wall, his shirt halfway undone, and Yoonoh, his posture screaming danger, standing one or two feet apart, his black boots shining because of all the blood and rain.

"I don't care shit about your clan. I just want you to pay for what you did to my family." 

Taeyong furrows his split eyebrow then and moans in pain. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy," Yoonoh's little laugh is heartless, impatient. "Wasn't that your master plan? Have fun with the last Jung and kill me off? When I'm lying there next to you asking what food you'd like to order tonight, babe?" He walks closer and presses himself against Taeyong who flinches, but no punch comes. Yoonoh drops his head on Taeyong's sore shoulder. Another heartless laugh. "How could you... No. How could I be so stupid." He lifts his head and stares at Taeyong, his eyes travelling all over his bloody face. "Was it always your game?"

"No," Taeyong starts, "I mean yes. Yes, our meet wasn't an accident, but fuck," he wipes the blood form the corner of Yoonoh's lips with trembling fingertips. "I did mean everything after, Yoonoh."

His hand is soon swatted away when he hears a mumble of: "You can call me Jaehyun already, stop with this bullshit. What's your real name, anyways?"

Taeyong is dumbstruck. He eyes the man like he's seeing him for the first time, and a flood of memories suddenly rush through him. It cannot be. It's impossible. He's only known one Jaehyun in his life. "Wait, Jaehyun? You said the last Jung? What is going on?" His lips quiver and Taeyong's shoulders are being grabbed again, his back slammed against the wall and he is sure something cracks then in his body.

"Stop messing around! You must know perfectly well about what your father did to the Jungs! All we did was live down the block from here, a normal damn life. I was fucking seven, Taeyong," he shakes his body as if to make his point more valid. "And he just murdered them. Police couldn't do a thing, they hid it for goddamn years. And it was your family. I am sure you've been enlightened when you took over this shitty group of his."

"What did you just say? Where did you live, Jaehyun?" Taeyong can't hide his horrified expression anymore. It is him. It's Jaehyun.

"Stop it! What does it matter!" He screams and Taeyong shakes his head, smile tugging at his lips. It must be the biggest joke life has ever done to him.

"You... I can't believe this," he grabs Jaehyun's face in his hands, making them stare at each other. "Don't you remember me?"

"What?" Jaehyun tries to withdraw, but Taeyong's grip is firm, not letting go.

"You used to call me stupid for carrying that turtle backpack, remember?"

And he sees it then. The way Jaehyun's expression changes as he remembers Taeyong, not as a criminal, not as his lover, but as a child. A stupid, silly, innocent child.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ He tries it every single day. And every single time it ends the same. _

_ "Where do you think you are going?" _

_ "Outside, dad," Taeyong answers, backpack on his shoulders. He finally collected enough play cards, after having his nanny buy every single magazine in the store some days ago, and he is ready to show them to someone. He wants to make a friend. _

_ His father looks at him over his glasses. He then nods at one of the men next to him and says: "Go with Taeyong." _

_ "No dad!" Taeyong stomps his feet. "I want to go alone!" _

_ But that always ends with his father's disappointed look, him shedding a tear or two and there he goes, catching little frogs outside with a scary man in a suit following him behind. He hates it. _

_ He is in the middle of telling a little green froggie what powers the character on his card has when he hears someone exclaim with a "wow". A boy is looking at him. "You have the golden team?" _

_ Taeyong blinks his eyes and looks at his card. The scary man moves closer to him and he scowls, trying to look intimidating, but he knows this look always earns him a giggle and his ruffled brown hair.  _

_ "Uhm. Yes." _

_ The boy fidgets and walks a few steps closer from where he's been swinging on a swing, some other children running around in the background. Taeyong wishes he could run like that too. _

_ "Keep the distance, boy," the man in a suit says and the boy widens his eyes before he scurries away. _

_ That night Taeyong cries himself to sleep, having lost the little frog he's brought from the outside. He just wants a friend. _

_ There are several more times when Taeyong sees the boy after that, until one day, his hands curled into fists, chest puffed out, the boy in shorts walks up to the man in a suit and taps him on his side. "Why can't I play with him?" _

_ Taeyong has been drawing scary faces on the sand, watches the boy glare at the man with courage, who scratches the back of his head and looks down to Taeyong and then back to the boy. _

_ "Come on, scary man! We'll be here," Taeyong, inspired, chimes in when he sees the man's doubts. "He's my new friend," he smiles at the boy. _

_ "Yes, come on, scary man!" The boy joins. _

_ And so since then, Taeyong is joined by the boy every time he is allowed to go outside. When it's safe enough, according to his father. The boy's name is Jaehyun and he has a yellow bike and loads of bruises and loads of colourful bandages on his knees, and Taeyong sometimes sits and asks what kind of cartoon characters those are. _

_ There is a time when his mum gets him the coolest looking backpack in the world. It is a turtle. And Taeyong runs up to Jaehyun to show it to him, proud, but Jaehyun makes Taeyong turn and walk back and forth, until he can't take another breath from his heavy laughing. Taeyong doesn't talk to him for a week after that. Jaehyun calls him stupid. _

_ But in the end, if not Jaehyun, Taeyong would have never learnt what Dungeons and Dragons were, he would have never known that when it rains, worms dig themselves out from the ground to scare children. Jaehyun is his best friend, the only friend. The friend who saves him from loneliness, and so Taeyong doesn't cry himself to sleep anymore. Instead, he has sleepovers with a friend, he goes to his house and eats delicious apple pie made by Jaehyun's mum. They catch froggies together and see which one jumps higher. They watch cartoons and eat cereal. They do all that, until one day Jaehyun just disappears. _

_ Taeyong waits for him every single day, he waits at the swing, he waits at the playground. He asks his parents to bring him to his house, but they tell him Jaehyun has moved out. His best friend never comes back.  _

And that way, throughout life, Taeyong never forgot about the boy who made him feel like he belonged somewhere normal for once. Like he had a chance just to be a boy and watch his stupid cartoons for the rest of the days. 

It was a boy that saved him once. And now - the boy stands in front of him. Damaged and hurt. This time being the one that needs to be saved.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"I... just can't believe it is you." He brushes Jaehyun's cheekbones and the man clenches his jaw, dark look in his eyes. "I've attempted to look for you, when I was a teen maybe." Taeyong tries a smile.

Jaehyun breathes out. "That doesn't change a thing. Your old man still killed my parents."

"And how does that make  _ me _ their killer, Jaehyun? I was just as much of a child as you were. Jesus, I had no idea, I thought you freaking moved."

Jaehyun keeps silent. He scowls at Taeyong though he lets him hold his face.

"What, your plan is to kill me instead? You'll feel better then?" Taeyong tries to find his eyes but Jaehyun is staring into the wall, behind his shoulder. "Kill me then, I don't really feel like being at war with you after all of this. I get it, okay? I got to live my life and you didn't. But just so you know, I felt very little when my father died. Not too sure if you remember, but he wasn't the greatest to me. So sure. Kill me if that's what you need to do."

Not that he expects Jaehyun to kill him right there and then, but a sudden kiss makes him gasp. Jaehyun grunts into his mouth and his hands are wrapping around his waist, his breath hot and the taste on his tongue that of blood. Taeyong succumbs into his hold and they kiss like that briefly, for the first time as men they truly are. Old friends, two criminals, two pretentious pricks that play the games of pretence.

"Go check there!" A command stops the kiss and they stare at each other, footsteps nearing the alley. They both know that if found - one of them is dead. So Taeyong grabs Jaehyun's hand and pulls him, pulls him to run with him and away from this. At least for tonight.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Jaehyun stops on his tracks when they reach Taeyong's car, just some alleys away and the latter hops into it abruptly, turning to stare at him. His cue now is to hop in too, or whatever.

He still fells numb, like he feels nothing and everything at the same time. 

Lee Taeyong. Over the years, Jaehyun forgot the boy's name, but now all that rings in his ears is Taeyong. Taeyong and his stupid turtle backpack. Taeyong and his stupid little frogs.

"What are you doing? Get in now." Taeyong lowers the window, face bloody, ruined by his own fists. "Jaehyun, we have no time."

The road seems empty, but he can hear people running. He can hear sirens approaching. But to drive off with Taeyong, that feels like betraying his own self, his revenge. All his life his biggest plan and aspiration was to kill the boss of the Syndicate. And now... Jaehyun doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He looks at Taeyong and he wants to hurt him, but that is rather different than killing. It's conflicting. There is no peace, no justice left.

"Jaehyun, I am going to knock you down myself if you don't get into this car right now!"

He blinks, he can't think. So he opens the car's door like some puppet in a show, controlled by little strings. 

Back at wherever Taeyong brings them, Jaehyun is yet to figure out where that is, the light is white in a bathroom which must be a size of a room. The brightness makes the scene that of a gory horror film, bloody footprints and fingertips all over the floor and walls. A big slam of a red hand contour on a side of a sink.

Jaehyun has his fingers intertwined and on his lap, head low. Bloody cotton balls are dropped into a little pile at his crotch, a pair of tweezers, some antiseptic. "Do you even know what you are doing?" He lifts his head to glance at Taeyong, who has a concentrated look and a thread in his mouth, inspecting the wound on his bare arm. The bullet went right through it, which saved them some extra screams and possibly Jaehyun's passing out moment, if that was the case of taking it out.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Taeyong is hooking the thread into a needle. "Besides, look," he lifts his shirt, to the scar next to his hipbone. The skin tissue around it seems thin and paler than the rest of his body. "Fixed this one myself."

Jaehyun, his hands covered in dried blood, knuckles surely missing some skin of his own after his majestic performance whilst hitting a concrete wall, he touches Taeyong's waist slowly, fingers tracing over the scar, he's noticed it before, but never had a chance to ask. "What happened?"

Taeyong, his gaze on Jaehyun's lips, he says: "A knife. Quite uneventful, actually."

They sit silently, the only sounds that Jaehyun can make are grunts every time the needle pierces through his skin with a followed thread. The thread is pink and Taeyong explains that it is the only one he could find after seeing Jaehyun's drawn eyebrows. Jaehyun is sure he hears a snappy comment of "so macho", but he chooses to ignore it.

Taeyong moves to his split lip once his arm is bandaged. His little stool is dragged closer and he is almost in between Jaehyun's legs, one hand holding onto his naked shoulder whilst the other cleans up the wound. The wash cloth is warm and it feels pleasant on his skin, but Jaehyun is too distracted by the proximity of their bodies, even though just a day ago they were lying in bed, naked and spent.

"Okay, you are all done," Taeyong says and turns to stand up, but Jaehyun tugs at his shirt's sleeve to sit him back down. Now he is the one to brush his red hair from his beaten face. His turn to pretend like he knows what he is doing with all these cotton balls and warm cloths.

Taeyong's face would take weeks to properly heal, his cheek blue, eyebrow, lip, another eyebrow split, but he sits there calmly, lets Jaehyun turn his face to one side, then another as he holds onto his chin gently.

Jaehyun's fingers travel on their own over Taeyong's patched face. He then brushes his neck that is almost the same shade of blue as his cheek. "I almost killed you."

"I know." Taeyong's smile is understanding. He collects all the bloody cotton balls and drops them to the bin, takes the cloth and wipes the sink. "You can sleep here if you want," he says after a pause, bowl of hot water in his hands before he pours it out, not looking at Jaehyun. "I think I have some frozen pizza and couple of cans of beer," he tugs some hair behind his ear as he says so, glancing at Jaehyun briefly before he exists the bathroom.

Now, back to reality, adrenaline rush dissipated and his thought process coming back to him the way you suddenly remember an answer during an exam, Jaehyun enters the kitchen that is an open room with a living room. The place seems small, but big enough for one person only. The walls are almost mustard yellow and there are several neon signs on the kitchen table with the words "Chill" on them. They are pink and blue and green. Jaehyun glances at some 80s american adverts hanging on the walls, with women holding coca cola cans and couples dancing in New York streets. "Won't they come look for you here?" 

Taeyong, busy with the oven and a wrapped in plastic pizza, he shrugs his shoulders. "No one knows about this place. I just hide here sometimes. Besides, I've already let them know that I'm alive and sorting this mess out."

Jaehyun comes closer and leans his back against one of the counters. "Right."

"Should we talk?"

"About what?"

"About what happened tonight, everything. I mean, what do we do now?"

Jaehyun stares at Taeyong's back. His shirt is still muddy and covered in dried blood. He can't explain why, and that would be stupid to, but this true look Taeyong displays is the most attractive thing he has ever seen. Maybe because they are equal now. They don't deserve coffee dates with strangers. "I don't really want to talk," he says when he walks up to the injured red head, presses his front against his back and curls his arms around his waist. Taeyong is still holding a pizza box, instructions saying to cook it for 30 minutes.

"Jaehyun."

"I..." Jaehyun starts. He is tired, Taeyong is tired, and he can't possibly bear the thought of facing the idea of not getting his closure. He can't kill Taeyong, not with the way he pathetically feels right now, and that makes him not want to think at all. "I need time. This is messed up and our groups are officially at war, right?" He says and plants a kiss on Taeyong's shoulder, nuzzles his nose to the reek of blood. "I just can't do this right now. When I say I would have killed you, I was serious."

Taeyong turns around, his hands on Jaehyun's naked chest, eyes low and contemplating. "I deserved that," the oven beeps as he says so and Taeyong stretches over Jaehyun to turn it off. "But hey," he lifts his two beautiful eyes to Jaehyun, the eyes that don't work together with his devilish smile. "I shot you in the arm."

So they don't talk after that. Knowing that with talking, more pain would come, with talking, Jaehyun would have to part ways with Taeyong, with talking, Jaehyun would remember that he can't avenge his parents anymore. There is nothing left. And he is not sure he can look into Taeyong's eyes ever again the way he imagined since he met the man who spilled iced americano on his crotch. So he holds onto his waist when he sits him on the kitchen counter, holds onto the bony shoulders and thighs and hair and the wrists when he plants butterfly kisses on his injured lips. Jaehyun kisses his eyelids and his cheeks, kisses his forehead when he pushes his body further, standing in between Taeyong's legs.

Blood is sure to ooze from a corner of Jaehyun's lips, but that makes him want to kiss Taeyong even more feverishly. They peck each other, run their tongues and sigh when their tips meet and Jaehyn grabs onto Taeyong's thighs to wrap them around his waist, taking all of the body heat he can from the man he might not see ever again. Jaehyun just can't do this. 

Without really knowing where to go, he picks up Taeyong, their crotches pressed together in a painful friction, and carries him to the first bed he can find in between the pecks and bloody kisses.

"I don't think I can take it tonight," Taeyong, lying on the bed with his hair spread on a grey pillowcase, he looks up at Jaehyun when he removes the belt and lowers his jeans. Jaehyun notices now how many bruises Taeyong actually has, and he can't help but run his fingers all over them, something sick in him urging to put some pressure on them, loving the rough edges of this man, but he tosses the thought away. He can't be his psycho self tonight. It is not how he wants to remember this all.

"Hey, I told you I can be vanilla too," he says instead and lowers himself in between Taeyong's legs, planting several kisses on his shaft, then he sucks on a tip teasingly, taking it into his mouth and releasing with a sexy sounding pop every time Taeyong moans out. "Is this alright?" Jaehyun pushes the bony knees further to Taeyong's heaving chest and thumbs the rim of muscles.

"Don't treat me like some baby twink," Taeyong rolls his eyes and reaches for his bedside drawer. He covers Jaehyun's hand in lube, encouraging him to keep going.

When Jaehyun positions his cock in between Taeyong's legs, when he pushes in and the pressure makes his stomach churn, well it takes his all to not slam all the way in ruthlessly, just like they are used to. He can see Taeyong hold his breath and Jaehyun leans in, trying to not put all of his body weight on him and kisses him on the mouth, perfectly aware of both of their lips hurting. Taeyong huffs into his mouth and locks his ankles on the small of his pale sweaty back when Jaehyun tries to straighten up, coat his dick with some more lube.

"It's fine," Taeyong whispers and Jaehyun complies. He tugs at the cross shaped piercing when he slowly moves his hips back and forth, slowly reaching the hilt. With a second full slam, him hitting the bundle of nerves, Taeyong slaps his strong hand on Jaehyun's arse, digging his fingers in with every movement. 

Jaehyun hisses when another hand lands on his flesh with a loud slap. "I thought someone was weak and up for vanilla?"

Taeyong pecks his stubbled jaw. "That's my vanilla."

Their sex is slow, the slowest Jaehyun has ever had with the man, the kind of pace he was expecting them to have the first time he took notice of the red head's looks. Those sweet looking lips, seductive and petite frame. This time, the moans are longer, maybe even louder as there is more time to breathe, more time to feel each and every nerve react to different sensations. And as Jaehyun fucks into Taeyong, so aware of his body accidentally hurting him in the process, so aware how they are glued to each other, in the most boring missionary position in the world, so aware of this room and this place, of their eyes and lips and injured hands, Jaehyun realises that this can't be just fucking anymore. There is a different way he is feeling now, whenever Taeyong brushes his sweaty hair from his forehead with his stretched veiny hand or when he pants his name into his ear in the most silent of whispers.

He wants to pull out when he feels himself reach his climax. Maybe calm down, eat the damn pizza and go back to the ecstasy again, but when he tries to get out of Taeyong's hold, the latter doesn't let him. And so Jaehyun comes, rather prematurely for his liking, with the chants of "Jaehyun Jaehyun" in his hazy head. He doesn't waste time and wraps his lips around Taeyong's purpling cock, taking it all in with its precome and glory. He smirks when Taeyong releases his 'I'm coming' moan and they both share a dirty kiss after. Come and sweat and blood.

That same evening, as they lay in bed spent, more emotionally than anything, Taeyong's head under Jaehyun's chin, he silently says: "What's going to happen when you leave?"

Jaehyun strokes the thigh that is wrapped around him as he brings their faces together. He kisses Taeyong's forehead with a little "I don't know."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Life goes on, of course it does. It might have been good six months after he's been both destroyed and saved by Taeyong. He says destroyed and saved purely because he never knew he could have felt such strong feelings after being heartbroken, all on the same day.

When they fell asleep that night, Jaehyun roused in some hours, he pecked Taeyong one last time, ran his fingers through his chest and silently dressed.

He knew. He knew that Taeyong was awake and was letting him ago. He also knew that Taeyong knew this also. If this bullshit even makes sense now.

But they departed, just like that, with all the longing left behind.

With his life losing purpose as some grand revenge and murder sacrifice, Jaehyun spends most of his time playing a fair game. As fair as possible in crime world, of course.

Both the Syndicate and his group have suffered big losses after their clash, and things have been rather silent since then. Jaehyun can only guess Taeyong has a lot to do with it, and so does he. So they work separately, Jaehyun making sure his underlings mess with other groups and territories without much of their knowing, really. Most of them died that night anyways and as sick as it may sound, Jaehyun has a clean slate with new professionals.

That, however, doesn't mean that he's not expecting an attack any time soon. For all he knows, this silence could mean bad news, and he is sure Taeyong is over it all after months of separation. Separation. God, he sounds like a divorced husband that can't move on.

He starts visiting his favourite coffee shop again, not missing the way barista's eyes sparkle when he finally shows up. He thinks maybe this time he should really hit on some civilian himself, realising how clear it was that Taeyong was not a normal person. Who the fuck has red, slicked back hair anyways.

Taeyong Taeyong Taeyong.

Jaehyun takes a sip of his iced americano and glances at the wall clock, annoyed. The name never leaves his mind. Even the look doesn't, maybe because the coffee shop's door opens, and he sits staring at his memory walk up to him. It feels like deja vu, the red hair, the coat, heavily ringed hands and that damn shaved off eyebrow.

They face each other when Taeyong plops on the chair across, and Jaehyun doesn't miss on the scar just under the man's right eye. He doesn't really have much to say, and there is no chance he would start this all with "I miss you and I want you", so he keeps mum, watches Taeyong take out a brown envelope and place it in front of him on the table.

"I have something for you."

Jaehyun takes the envelope and lifts his eyes to Taeyong. He does miss him and he wants him. "Is my head going to explode when I open this?"

Taeyong rolls his eyes and leans on the back of the chair, surveying Jaehyun. "We can save that for future meetings. Just open this up."

Inside, there are two pictures. Two men. Both seem like any regular old farts, their eyes just clear proof of wealth and hollowness.

"What's this?"

"I know this will never be enough, but they were involved, Jaehyun," Taeyong looks deep into his eyes, smirk long gone. "They were a part of your parents’ murder, I believe this one," he points at the bald one, "is the one who was supposed to kill you off too when you entered the scene, but he got shit scared and made you leave by yourself. Don't know what shit he told you." 

Jaehyun's hands tremble, he can't stop staring at their faces, memories of the blood and the way he ran for days, with dried blood on his shorts and shirt, running nowhere in particular. All because of these men.

"I've been trying to find out what happened, and managed to dig out my father's accomplices that night. Your parents just... saw something they shouldn't have. I know where they are now, we can-"

Jaehyun stands up. His coffee spills all over the table. "No, fuck this shit." He is angry, he wants to punch a wall, he just wants to do bad things. The feeling of revenge surges through him the same way of when he heard of the new Syndicate's boss for the first time, that time when he didn't know he'd acquaint him not as the boss, but as Taeyong.

"Wait," Taeyong is quick to grab his forearm, and some people around exchange uncomfortable looks. "Jaehyun, I just want you to have closure, and this is as good as I could do. Fuck, I don't know why I'm here, but I'm on your side, do you understand?" He walks around the table and cups Jaehyun's cheek. "Will you let me?" He holds his trembling hand until it stops, Jaehyun's breaths heavy. "Will you let me be on your side?"

Jaehyun hangs his head, to their intertwined fingers, he squeezes Taeyong's hand, small smile tugging at his lips, anger turning into relief. Maybe he can have his closure. "If we are going to kill those fuckers now," he whispers. Fingers brush his cheekbone.

"Yes. Yes we are."

**Author's Note:**

> To the person who submitted this prompt,  
I hope this wasn't too disappointing, I wanted this prompt the moment I saw it (thank you for your lovely ideas and input), and truly sorry if my lack of experience with fics was not the way you pictured this to be! I am not a fic writer, hell, I often lack imagination in general, so this was a good challenge. And to those who stumbled upon this and happened to read till the end, I thank you too.


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